The Pureblood Pact
by potionseagle
Summary: After a last-ditch effort to evade the Dark Lord goes awry, Ginny finds herself in Slytherin, best friends with Pansy Parkinson and engaged to none other than Draco Malfoy. Draco/Ginny.
1. Meddling With Time

"I took this from the Department of Mysteries," her mum was saying frantically, pushing a strange black box into her hands. "It's the object we've been searching for to get a note back in time. Write to me; fix this." It was all she had time to say before they both had to duck, as the elder Nott has nearly spotted them. The two of them were the last Weasleys, running for their lives across the Forbidden Forest. The centaurs had helped hide them for a while, but they had just been biding time.

"I'm going to distract them." Ginny tried to stop her only remaining family member, but Mrs. Weasley was determined. They both knew their only hope was this untested device from the Department of Mysteries. Ginny took a crumpled up piece of parchment that was already written on and wrote on the back. She kept it incredibly simple. "This is your daughter; rest of family dead from Voldemort. Make sure Fudge is not elected and inform everyone you can that Voldemort comes back in June 1995. Triwizard Tournament a ruse. Dad calls you Mollywobbles." She added the last bit to prove her identity; she knew it was an old nickname.

"What do we have here?" Ginny heard a familiar werewolf say as he spotted her. In response, she did what they had discussed: she closed her eyes and pictured her mum's face and thought the year 1980 as she shoved the note into the box.

* * *

She woke up uncomfortably curled against a tree trunk, back hunched with the curve of the bark. A voice was calling, "Ginevra! Ginevra!" She woke up to see Pansy Parkinson staring down at her, with a concerned expression on her face Ginny had never seen before.

"Oh, thank Salazar. You didn't move for ages- I was half-worried you were dead!" _Me too_ , Ginny agreed silently. It had worked! There was no Death Eater ready to kill her—or worse.

Ginny sat up, stretching out to try to work out the uncomfortable knots that had formed on her body. "You didn't think to check my pulse?" Ginny responded dryly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I checked your pulse. I was exaggerating, but I was worried about you. Do I want to know why you're wearing a Gryffindor tie and look like you just had a row with the giant squid?"

Ginny looked down at her red-and-gold tie and then back up at Pansy, who was wearing a set of emerald green dress robes. "Is there another tie I should be wearing?"

Pansy chuckled. "Seriously, we need to go. I'm supposed to side-along Apparate you, remember? Come." Pansy offered her hand and Ginny took it. Pansy immediately yanked her up and started dragging her toward the edge of the forest, probably to get out of the range of Hogwarts' Anti-Apparition wards.

 _What had changed to make me friends with Pansy Parkinson? Perhaps the Houses aren't as divided as they were in my time_ , Ginny thought to herself. She walked quietly behind Pansy, not wanting to draw any untoward attention to herself before she had a chance to acclimate to her new surroundings. Finally, they reached the edge of the Hogwarts grounds. Pansy didn't warn her before she felt a painful squeeze. She screamed involuntarily as she felt her chest compress. She couldn't breathe; she felt like she was in a box that was closing in around her. The sensation stopped almost as quickly as it had begun, and Ginny became aware of Pansy's bewildered expression matched by none other than Draco Malfoy. Pansy had apparated her into what appeared to be someone's bedroom. The decor was silver and white, with modern furnishings that clashed with the intricate crown molding.

"Merlin, Gin, are you alright?" Even stranger than the high pitch of Draco's voice was when he rushed over to her and embraced her in a tight hug. "Why are you screaming? What happened to you?" He let her go reluctantly and turned his attention to Pansy, his eyebrows knitting together in anger. "I ask you for one favor, and you can't even get Gin here in one piece?"

"I found Ginevra like this, Draco. It's not my fault your fiancée's idea of a prank involves some sort of grime and a Gryffindor tie." _Fiancée? In reference to me? And Draco Malfoy?_ She would have laughed or cried at the idea just hours before, but in this strange new world, it seemed that Draco Malfoy may genuinely care about her.

Draco continued to glare at Pansy as though she hadn't said anything at all. "Will you leave us? I think you've done enough here."

After Pansy left, Draco cast _Muffliato_ quietly and turned to her. "What's happened?"

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, not wanting to get into this discussion with her previous nemesis. "Everything's fine. Like Pansy said, I was planning a prank."

Draco didn't look at all affected by her speech. Instead, he paced and then whispered, _"Tempus,"_ showing that it was nearly a quarter to eight. "We have to be downstairs in twenty minutes," Draco muttered more to himself than Ginny. "I'm concerned you've been Confounded." He looked at her for response but Ginny didn't know what to say to that. "You didn't bring a change of clothes?"

"Er—no," Ginny replied. Draco inhaled sharply, pacing and nodding to himself. "I'll get you a pair of dress robes from my mother. You… Take a quick shower. We can't be late." With that, he left the room.

Ginny tried to remain calm and follow Draco's instructions. _Later. You can think about all of this later_ , she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. She stepped into the bathroom. It was bright white, with a glass shower door. _The room smelled like Draco._ The thought came to her almost immediately, although she didn't realize before this moment she could even identify what Draco Malfoy's scent was. Still, it hit Ginny almost immediately: ink, vanilla, and some sort of musk. When she stepped into the shower, she had to steady herself against the wall. There were two shelves. One had shampoo, conditioner, and shaving cream that clearly belonged to Draco. The other… belonged to her. It didn't have any of the shampoos, conditioners, or soaps that she normally used, but they were clearly of her choosing. The shampoo was for red hair specifically, and when she opened it, it smelled of sandalwood and birch. Her favorite. _Later, later, later_ , she repeated to herself as she quickly washed her body and hair. She stepped out of the shower quickly, wrapping herself in a deep purple towel for coverage. She cast a Drying Charm on her hair and body, and then left the bathroom. She had heard shuffling on the other side of the door, and so was unsurprised when Draco was sitting on his bed with a pair of dress robes folded neatly on his lap that were the same shade of purple as the towel she had wrapped around herself.

Draco handed her the robes and looked at her in a way that made her feel like she was under a microscope. She tightened her hold on her towel subconsciously. To her surprise, Draco started laughing, breaking the tension. "Don't worry, Gin," he said through laughter, "I'll give you the room so you can change." He went into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving her with the robes in the bedroom.

She slipped out of her towel and into the beautiful dress robes Draco had laid out. Ginny noticed there was no underwear laid out for her, but decided it would have to do for now. "You can come out now!" She shouted.

Draco opened the door to the bathroom quickly. "We're supposed to be downstairs in three minutes, and we both know how much the Dark Lord loves tardiness." Ginny felt like she had been hit by a particularly nasty curse. _The Dark Lord?_ Ginny had nearly managed to convince herself that everything was different and that's why she was friends with Pansy and Draco because the alternative was unthinkable: that everything was the same, but _she_ was different.

"Gin?" Draco looked at her with that strange expression again. It was almost… tender. "You're ghastly pale." He felt her forehead. "You don't feel warm. Look, if it were up to me, I would have you rest, and then figure out what happened to you, but we don't have time. Can you do a quick Glamour Charm for your makeup and hair? Then I'm just going to have you stick right by my side, alright?" Ginny nodded reluctantly, performing the Charms she had learned for the Yule Ball. Draco crossed the room and rummaged through one of his dresser drawers while she worked. He brought back a diamond-encrusted barrette. "Your favorite," he said softly as he slipped it into her hair. He kissed her on the forehead. "We'll talk later, alright, Gin?" He searched her face for some sort of confirmation.

"Of course," Ginny responded meekly, trying to steel herself for whatever awaited her beyond these white walls.


	2. Sleeping Arrangements

Draco led Ginny down the wide staircase of Malfoy Manor with an arm slung loosely around her shoulder. Ginny looked over at him, surprising herself as she realized she was looking for support. For the first time in the whirlwind that had been the last half hour, she noticed that he was also wearing dress robes. His were navy, nearly black, that stood in stark contrast to his pale skin and silvery-blond hair. "You look really nice, Draco," Ginny offered.

Draco squeezed her upper arm and smiled faintly. His mind was clearly elsewhere. _Probably on my odd behavior_ , Ginny thought to herself. "Thanks, Gin. Same to you."

Once they finished descending, Draco led Ginny toward an imposing pair of double doors. As they approached, he opened one of the large blue doors, gesturing for her to walk through.

Ginny had to suppress a gasp as she walked in. It wasn't the beautiful crystal chandelier, the grand size of the room, or the beautiful decor that shocked her. It was the sea of red hair. She had miscalculated. _She_ was not different in this time; her entire family had switched sides.

Ginny didn't have much time to contemplate this as Draco grabbed her hand immediately after they walked in and started leading her around the bend of the circular room. He stopped suddenly as they approached a line of couples leading to the opposite end of the room they had entered from. There, sitting on what appeared to be a throne, was Voldemort. Ginny couldn't suppress her reaction this time. Draco had warned her about his presence, but nothing could have prepared her for the proximity and the sinking realization that they were waiting to interact with him.

Ginny pulled at Draco's deep blue robes until he bent down so she could whisper in his ear. "I don't know if I can do this, Draco."

He gave her a confused look, but proceeded to wrap his arms around her fiercely. Her face was buried in his chest, and she didn't question the comfort that she felt from their embrace. She returned the gesture and nuzzled her head against him as she pulled him closer. He bent down and tucked her hair behind her ear. "I don't know what's going on with you, Gin, but just follow my lead and I'll try my best to get us out of here early." She nodded against him and then looked up as she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

When she turned around, she wanted to scream with joy. Percy was standing behind her with… Millicent Bulstrode? "Ginevra," Percy reprimanded her in a stern tone that made her feel like she was at home. "Move up," he continued in a bossy tone.

"Perce!" She couldn't help but grin at the sight of him.

 _"_ _Ginevra!"_ He hissed.

Ginny moved closer to the imposing figure of Voldemort, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of another and breathing at the appropriate pace. It wasn't easy.

As she approached, she noticed that the other couples were kissing each hand as they greeted him. Ginny tried to look away but it was impossible, and her survival instincts told her she needed to watch to mimic. It was one thing to defy Voldemort for a purpose; it was quite another to do so in front of all his followers (and her family!).

"Ginevra." Ginny barely held back a shudder; every syllable was extended and Voldemort had just used her first name. The same first name that before this time had only been used by her mother. Hearing it come out of his mouth made anger bubble up within her, and she intentionally avoided eye contact. "Draco," Voldemort greeted her date after a pause that felt like an eternity. She watched Draco for her cue and kissed the cold, corpse-like hand and allowed Draco to drag her away, shaking like a leaf.

"You okay, Gin?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "Let's go find the rest of my family. I'd like to say hello to them."

"Ronald's right over there."

"Ronald?"

"Your brother. Don't tell me you're that confused," Draco teased.

"No, I'm just a little slow on the uptake right now," Ginny mumbled.

"I'm just teasing."

"I know." Draco grinned in response and pulled her over toward Pansy and her date. As they got closer, Ginny realized it was Ron. She could not have picked him out herself; his hair was slicked back and short, and he was a solid twenty pounds thinner, bones jutting out of his face to the point where he looked sickly.

"Ron-ald," Ginny piled on the second syllable.

"Ginevra," Ron responded formally, his chin still in the air. He gave her a stiff nod but no other indication of her presence.

"We just wanted to come over and say our congratulations," Draco offered. _Congratulations?_

Pansy smiled a wide smile that Ginny had never seen on her face before. "Thank you, darling."

"Thank you, Draco," Ron echoed.

"Er—congrats," Ginny followed.

"Thank you, Gin. You cleaned up nicely," Pansy said with an overexaggerated wink.

Ginny blushed fiercely. "Thanks, Pansy," she mumbled.

"We really must greet everyone else," Ron said in a bored tone. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

As Ron walked away, Ginny turned to Draco in an attempt to gauge his response. Was this really normal behavior for Ron? He had become a completely different person. Draco looked nonplussed, so Ginny didn't say anything.

"Remind me what they're celebrating?" Ginny asked in a strained voice.

Draco's face filled with surprise momentarily, but he suppressed it quickly. "Pansy's pregnant."

"Oh," Ginny squeaked out, not sure how to feel. It was as though she were being inundated from all sides, and somehow things like who her brother had married were almost more jarring than the knowledge that she was in the same room as Voldemort.

She greeted the rest of her brothers mechanically, not daring to hope that they might be the same as they had been. They weren't.

Her parents were not in attendance, and Ginny wondered if it was because they were still part of the Order or worse, but she didn't ask. Mostly, she didn't want to know the answer until she had the strength to hear it.

* * *

Miraculously, the party was over. Draco was leaning against a white wall, mumbling to himself. She couldn't make out what was coming out of his mouth, so she waited. "What I don't understand," he said after a long pause, "is you don't seem like you've been hit by an overly powerful Obliviate. You seem perfectly sane," he looked at her with a scrutinizing look as though to confirm this fact.

"I feel… fine, mostly. Just confused."

Draco started nodding and pacing furiously. Then he sat down next to her and grabbed her hands, looking straight into her eyes. She had never noticed before, but his eyes weren't a flat gray—they had specks of all different shades, and a hint of pale blue. "I'm going to do some research regarding memory loss once you get back," Draco was saying. _Get back?_ "In the meantime, we have all weekend to go over little things you'll need to know so as not to raise suspicion. But you haven't forgotten everything, right? You haven't forgotten… me?"

"Of course not, Draco," Ginny replied because she couldn't bear to say anything else. She had never seen anything close to this side of Draco Malfoy; he was so vulnerable and concerned for her well being. Ginny actually felt bad about lying to him, but what else could she do? This Draco seemed lovely, but she didn't know him enough to trust him with all her secrets.

"Alright. I think it's best if we get some sleep. What do you think?" Ginny nodded in response. Part of her wanted to ask where her room was, but judging based on the state of the shower earlier, she thought she already knew the answer to that.

Draco rummaged through one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a pair of pink flannel pajamas. He turned around and handed them to her before pulling out the drawers below. Before grabbing his pajamas, though, he started taking off his robes. Ginny felt like she was frozen as Draco was suddenly in front of her with nothing but boxer-briefs on. She had never seen any man other than her brothers in their underwear and felt a fierce blush creep up her cheeks against her own will. She could see every muscle in Draco's back move and flex as he bent down to grab his own flannel pajamas from the open drawer—they were a dark plaid, not pink like her own. He put on his pants and turned to her, saying something as he was buttoning up his shirt, but she was too focused on Draco's chest and abs and… _oh Godric, am I actually distracted by the body of Draco Malfoy?_

She forced herself to snap out of whatever daze she was in. "Apologies, but I didn't catch that." She forced herself to look him directly in the eyes. _No, that doesn't help._

Draco smiled, but he mostly looked exhausted. "Let's just go to sleep, shall we?" Ginny nodded and Draco continued to look at her. "You're sitting on my side of the bed, Gin. And I assume you'll want to change?"

"Oh," she heard her voice squeak out as she jumped up and ran into the bathroom. Once she closed the door, she let herself lean against it for a few moments, steadying herself. _Draco's right. Sleep. Sleep is the best thing right now._ Ginny tried not to think about much else as she slowly put on her clothes, looking in the mirror, trying to find some physical change in herself, but the same Ginny looked back at her, terrified.

When she went back into Draco's large bedroom, she paused momentarily. Draco was spread-eagle on the side of the king bed closest to her, eyes closed and breathing even. Ginny tiptoed to the other side of the bed and gingerly crawled in. She curled up into a ball facing the opposite direction from Draco, trying to forget about the presence of the blond wizard next to her.

* * *

The next morning, Ginny woke up to a pair of green eyes the size of saucers. Ginny broke into a wide smile and half-shouted, "Dobby!" She was never close to the house-elf, but she had met him a few times and his presence was a warm reminder of the friends she dearly missed.

"Miss Ginevra is awake!" Dobby squeaked. "Mister Draco says that the miss has breakfast in here."

"That will be fine, Dobby. Thank you." Ginny was annoyed to not be consulted, but privately agreed that she should interact with as few people as possible.

"Would miss like her normal breakfast?" Ginny nodded, and Dobby immediately left with a pop. _Hopefully other me has similar taste in food_ , Ginny thought to herself. She rose to survey the room. She started rummaging through the drawers and found that about half of them were hers. Luckily, she quickly located her underwear drawer. She had been too embarrassed last night to ask Draco to hand her underwear, and felt too awkward to do her own search. All of her underwear were plain black, but they weren't alone. Next to them was a stack of Slytherin ties and scarfs. _So I am in Slytherin_ , Ginny thought to herself, slightly dismayed at the realization although it was increasingly obvious considering the company she kept.

She quickly changed, and then sat on the bed, waiting for her food to come. She hadn't felt very hungry, but realized it had been a long time since she'd eaten. The last meal she had was extremely early the previous morning before the final battle. It was crazy to think that twenty-four hours ago, she was fighting Death Eaters, and now she was sitting calmly in Malfoy Manor, waiting for a house elf to bring her breakfast. Nevermind that she was engaged to Draco Malfoy; that was something to think about later.

Ginny was ripped out of her thought process as she heard the slow, quiet creak of a door slowly opening. Once Draco saw her, he breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good, you're awake. I didn't want to wake you." _Who was this person and what did he d_ o _with Draco Malfoy?_

"I appreciate that," Ginny replied, and then remembered that she was still irritated with him. "Why did you tell Dobby where I wanted to have breakfast?"

Draco laughed at that, which just infuriated Ginny more. "Sorry, Gin, did you want to have breakfast with my mother? 'Good morning, Narcissa, I've just been sleeping in your son's room.'"

"She doesn't know I'm here?" Ginny asked, surprised.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked mildly annoyed. "You know how my parents are. They know you're here, but they don't want to be reminded that we're flouting their pureblood traditions. Which is really a laugh since you're basically my sister, but they don't know that, obviously." _His sister? We're engaged!_

"Of course," Ginny replied, shaking her head as if to clear it. "You know I'm having a hard time with… details."

"Yes, I know," Draco replied, his voice serious again. "Which is dangerous, but we will just have to work this out as best we can until we can hopefully retrieve your memories. Now, you don't seem to know where you have memory holes, so maybe just tell me what you remember? Let's start with school since you'll have to go back Monday, and I can help you well enough at parties."

"Well," Ginny started. She still didn't want to admit she didn't remember everything, so she decided to just make educated guesses and then backtrack if corrected. "I'm a seventh-year Slytherin."

Draco nodded, chuckling softly and squeezing her hand as he took the spot next to her on the bed. "Let's hope you at least remember that," he joked. _You wouldn't think it was so hilarious if you were inside my head right now_ , Ginny thought to herself.

"Professor Snape…" Ginny waited for a reaction on that one, and Draco nodded for her to continue. "...is Headmaster," she guessed, hesitating for a moment to gather her thoughts.

"If you're going to pause for dramatic effect after every sentence, we're going to have a hard time getting through everything." He seemed to be in a much lighter mood this morning. He yawned and stretched, making himself more comfortable by slumping against the headboard. Ginny realized then that this was probably the first time she had seen Draco slouch, which she couldn't help but smile at.

"Maybe this would be faster if you just gave me a rundown of absolutely everything," Ginny suggested, hoping he would bite. He made a bit of a face, but didn't seem too opposed. Ginny pouted and said, "Please. I'm tired. Getting attacked and Obliviated isn't my favorite Friday night activity." Draco's eyes darkened for a moment, but he cleared his throat and nodded.

"Alright, Gin. You lie down, I'll talk." He patted the space next to him as he talked. Ginny agreed silently, lying back against the comfortable pillow that seemed to mold to her head shape instantaneously.

"Let's see. I'll start with the staff, I suppose. The head of Slytherin is Professor Grubbly-Plank. She teaches Care of Magical Creatures." _The Care of Magical Creatures substitute teacher is the head of the house of snakes? Things keep getting stranger and stranger._ "The Dark Arts professor and Head of Ravenclaw is Professor Quirrel." Suddenly, Ginny was glad she hadn't had breakfast yet because she felt like she was about to choke. She had never personally had Quirrel, but Harry had told her enough stories to give her pause. The part that really disturbed her, though, was that this means Voldemort had been back for at least seven years, if not longer.

"Head of Hufflepuff and Herbology professor is Professor Sprout," Draco was saying. _Finally, something familiar._ "And the Head—" But Draco was cut off by a pop as Dobby Apparated into the room with a plate of breakfast and juice. Ginny sat up to receive her food, giving her thanks to Dobby. Draco shot her a strange look but didn't comment. Her breakfast consisted of jam, toast, and guava juice. Merlin, didn't she eat?

"Something wrong?" Draco was looking at her with an all-too-familiar expression of suspicion, setting off alarm bells in Ginny's head.

"No, it's just that my toast is not very hot," she tried to say in a haughty voice. Draco's eyes were still slightly narrowed.

"Do you want me to call Dobby back to fix it?"

"No, that's alright. I'm very hungry," she replied, hoping that adequately explained her behavior. Draco shrugged and continued, naming a wizard that Ginny had never heard of as Head of Gryffindor. She didn't recognize the names of the Potions, Divination, or Charms professor, either. Astronomy, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy were still taught by the same people. She winced when she heard Draco say that Professor Lockhart was the History of Magic professor.

Draco laughed at that. He seemed to have gotten over whatever bothered him about her interaction with Dobby. "I love that you have a hard time remembering basic pureblood traditions but Lockhart's awful teaching is burned into your brain." Ginny wrinkled her nose in response to the mention of Lockhart. "Well, I think that's everything, unless I've forgotten a class?" Ginny was unsurprised to hear Muggle Studies not mentioned.

"You're the one who would know," Ginny joked.

"Now, let's see. Your best friends are Pansy and me, though we've both graduated, so you mostly spend time with your roommate, Marie Hemlocke. Personally, I find her incredibly irritating, but you two seem close. That's about it. Oh, right. You play Quidditch, of course. You're a keeper. Nasty one at that." _Keeper? At least I still play Quidditch, I suppose._ "Of course, you can't tell anyone about us." He emphasized the last word.

"That we're engaged?" Ginny asked, confused.

"No," Draco said, shaking his head. "That we're not—you know—romantically involved. If anyone finds out, you would be in immediate danger."

"Right," Ginny responded, nodding to show she understood. "Got it." A wave of disappointment washed over her, which made her feel utterly ridiculous.

Draco seemed out of sorts. "Do you? Or do I need to explain what will happen if anyone finds out?" His voice had an edge to it, and although the information sounded useful, Ginny had a feeling of dread that made her go with her intuition. She shook her head and told Draco she understood perfectly. That seemed to satisfy him, and it was clear he also didn't want to discuss what the consequences would be, so he continued, telling her about all the passageways and trick stairs in the castle.

"Oh, and classes. You're taking Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Transfiguration, Dark Arts, and History of Magic."

Ginny tried not to make a face at that list.


	3. Return to Hogwarts

"Gin!" Ginny was crushed by enthusiastic screaming followed by a hug that literally took the breath out of her.

"Hi!" Ginny responded enthusiastically. She was guessing that the lanky blonde in front of her was her roommate, Marie, but Draco hadn't mentioned if she had more roommates. It seemed odd that there would only be two Slytherin girls in seventh year, especially in a world dominated by Voldemort.

"How was the party? I want to hear everything. I'm so jealous you were invited." The blonde was pouting in an exaggerated fashion, and her words tumbled out a million miles a minute.

"Well, it was in my sister-in-law's honor," Ginny responded dryly.

"You know what I mean. You get invited to everything. I wish my parents were in His inner circle." How did any version of Ginny hang out with this woman? It had been two minutes and Ginny wanted to run in the other direction. "So?"

"So…?"

"I want details, remember."

"Well, the décor was very… black. And purple."

The other girl smiled knowingly and rolled her eyes. "So Pansy."

"Yeah. So Pansy," Ginny replied awkwardly. "And, um… what else do you want to know?"

"What was he wearing?"

"Sorry, who?"

"You know, the love of my life." She sighed dramatically.

"Right." The blonde looked at her expectantly. "Actually, could you help me with his name? Don't freak out but I am having a lot of memory problems. Draco thinks I was attacked. Pansy found me passed out in the forest."

"You didn't lead with this?" It was hard to tell which rose more: the pitch of her voice or the volume. "Giiiiin!" Definitely the pitch.

"Sorry, I just didn't want to have to worry you if I didn't have to."

"I'm sure Draco nearly had a heart attack."

"He was really worried." _Still really strange._

"He is so irritating."

"What?" She was talking about Ginny's fiancée, and if they weren't really together, well she didn't know that.

"Don't act surprised. You complain about him all the time."

"I know, just habit, you know, defending him in public." The other girl nodded knowingly, shifting position to rustle through her desk. She came out with a photo book. The name "Marie Hemlocke" was printed in bold letters in the front. Each letter glittered with gold and little fireworks were popping out of them.

"I'll go through this with you." Marie opened the book, pointing to various witches and wizards Ginny had only known in passing, if at all. "And that's the love of my life," Marie said with a sigh as they reached the picture of none other than Vincent Crabbe. "Isn't he dreamy? Can you remember what he was wearing?"

"Honestly, no, I can't, sorry." There had to be a way out of this conversation. Out of this friendship. For some reason this strange irritating Slytherin was harder to deal with than Draco. At least he had somehow become a caring person; this girl made Ginny want to claw her eyes out.

"And that's Margaret," Marie continued, making snide comments about nearly every girl in the photo book. "Such a horrible color on her. I can't believe her friends let her go out in that, but they're not much better, are they?" Luckily, Ginny got the feeling that she wasn't required to respond to these remarks. They seemed to tumble out of Marie unprompted as she plowed forward without pausing for Ginny to comment.

* * *

The next day, Ginny was wandering through the hallway on her way to breakfast when a burly hand grabbed her and yanked her. Naturally, she screamed and fought against her attacker, finally turning around and performing her infamous Bat-Bogey Hex.

"What the hell, Gin?" Ugh. Ginny was so tired of that nickname. GINNY! She wanted to scream. G-I-N-N-Y.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"What do you mean?" The large man whined. As the bats cleared, she realized who she was talking to: Gregory Goyle.

"Merlin, Goyle, haven't you graduated by now?"

"What is wrong with you today, Gin? Goyle? Did I do something to upset you? And you know I skipped last year. Special mission and everything." He winked. Goyle actually winked at her. Ginny did not want to know what that meant.

"Look, I need to eat food before I can process whatever this is," she moved her hand to gesture at his general person as she grimaced.

"Seriously, Gin. Tell me what I did wrong so I can apologize and move on. I miss you." Ugh. He had gotten closer, his hot breath on her neck. She thought the fact that she was marrying Draco bloody Malfoy would at least prevent other Slytherins from pawing all over her.

"I am engaged, Gregory." Ginny was willing to use his first name to divert suspicion, no matter how much it pained her.

"You didn't seem to care about that last Thursday." Goyle said in what he must have thought was a seductive tone, but it sounded more like an angry cat snarling. He tried to touch her again, but she dodged it like a Bludger.

"I'm serious, Gregory. I know I've led you on—"

"Led me on?" He was angry now, but Ginny wasn't upset. Angry Goyle felt much more familiar. Angry Goyle she could deal with. "That's what we're calling sleeping with me, what, half a dozen times?" So much for keeping it a secret from everyone that her and Draco weren't a couple.

"Gregoryyyy," Ginny whined. She hated the way it sounded coming out of her mouth, but it seemed to calm Goyle down. Godric, this was a mess. How was she going to explain her strange behavior? "I'm sorry. I thought I heard someone coming down the hall," she whispered.

A look of relief washed over his face as he nodded.

"But I do have to end things with us."

"Why, Gin?" He sounded devastated, and she almost felt bad for him, the key word being almost.

 _Why, indeed?_ Ginny sighed dramatically. "This weekend with Draco—we're really a couple now, Gregory."

"What?" He looked dumb and dumbfounded at the same time.

Ginny nodded with as much sympathy she could muster for the person standing much too close to her.

"But you said you loved me." _Oh Godric._

"I'm so sorry, Gregory. I think there was just always something there with Draco and it just came out this weekend."

"Are you sure?" He looked crestfallen. "We only had a month." He half-talked, half-whispered to himself.

Ginny awkwardly extended out her arm to pat him and he grabbed it, pulling her into a tight hug. Unsure of what to do, Ginny awkwardly patted Goyle's back as her shoulder started to soak with what she could only conclude were his tears. Goyle's large fingers dug into her shoulder blade and spine and his chest was pressed against her own, cutting off her breathing.

"Goyle," Ginny managed to cough out. "You're crushing me."

"Goyle again?" His voice was cracking. "Gin, are you sure I didn't say something to upset you?"

"No, Gregory, will you stop being so dramatic? I have to eat," Ginny said in her best haughty voice. Infuriatingly enough, that seemed to trigger something in Goyle because he nodded resolutely and wiped his tears away, mumbling an apology. Ginny didn't respond and walked away. She did not like what constituted normal behavior for her counterpart. Not at all.

As she walked into the Great Hall, Marie waved her over enthusiastically.

"You're late to breakfast this morning," Marie said in an over-the-top teasing voice, wagging her eyebrows up and down. "Ever going to tell me where you run off to in the mornings?" _Well at least my shame was private._

"Nowhere, Marie. Where were you when I woke up?" Changing the subject to Marie seemed like a good strategy to get the blonde off her back.

"You know where I was," she said suggestively. Ginny looked at her blankly, waiting for her to remember something that wasn't about her: that she had supposedly lost part of her memory. "Ohhhh," Marie said slowly, realization dawning. "You don't. Well,"—she paused for effect—"I'll tell you all about it." Marie then dove into a story so horrifying that Ginny almost crushed the glass holding her pumpkin juice in her bare hands. Despite Marie's repeated insincere whining of "no, don't look", Ginny looked, turning her head around to the staff table with the most neutral face she could muster while making eye contact with Severus Snape. The Potions Master—Headmaster, now—nodded curtly at her and she broke eye contact. How could her roommate be sleeping with him?

"Isn't he dreamy?"

"Um…"

"I mean, he's no Vincent." Marie giggled. "But don't tell him that."

Ginny sighed and tried to smile. There was no accounting for taste.

* * *

Her first class was History of Magic. She sighed as she slid into her seat and waited for Lockhart to start droning on about something or other. Unfortunately, Lockhart called on people so she couldn't tune him out as she wanted to. She played dumb when he called on her (which was easy to do, really, as she had no idea what he was talking about) and rushed out of class when it was over. She had a free period and couldn't wait to go to the library. Just as she thought the words, she felt a sad smile on her face at the reminder of Hermione. What had happened to her in this strange world? Every student in her year that had been a Muggle-born was absent at breakfast this morning; it was difficult to imagine that Hermione had escaped being kicked out of school, as well.

As she walked into the library, she awkwardly made her way up to Madam Pince. "Excuse me, Madam Pince?"

"What do you need, Ms. Weasley?" Madam Pince replied in an exasperated tone. Well, some things would never change.

"Well, I'm doing a report on the Dark Lord and was wondering if there are any books on the history of his reign," Ginny said in her best mock-innocent voice, trying to convey regard for a man that she had spent years fighting.

"Ms. Weasley, why are you wasting my time?" She opened her mouth as though to say more but closed it again with a sigh. "Follow me."

Ginny couldn't help but let out a small gasp as Madam Pince walked her to what looked like several dozen books, all in the same series titled _Tales of our Lord, His Feats and Accomplishments_ by Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Er—thank you, Madam Pince."

"You're welcome, Ms. Weasley," the librarian replied as she left Ginny with the strange series. She started to go through the volumes as she picked out the one that appeared to be about his return and began to read, trying to suppress her rage as she did so.

 _"_ _After being reunited with the Stone, the Dark Lord called on his loyal followers, who rejoiced at the sight of his glorious return."_ Ginny scoffed; the book styled Voldemort as the creator of the Stone, and Dumbledore as someone who defeated Voldemort in order to obtain it.

 _"_ _Unfortunately, a young boy threw himself into the fight between the Dark Lord and the late Albus Dumbledore, a sad casualty in the war to improve the education of the young."_ Ginny nodded numbly, hugging the awful book to her just to have something to hold. She had thought Harry wouldn't have been alive with everyone so sure of Voldemort's reign, but there was still a small sliver of hope that she had held onto.

The next book was about the "improvement" of Hogwarts. _"The Dark Lord's first mission was to remove the non-magical students that only drew power at the expense of other students; grades improved almost immediately… In order to maintain our Secrecy, memory charms were performed on the young Muggles who had attended Hogwarts previously… As a result of the work on the Muggles, St. Mungo's can now cure most wizards who run afoul of a strong memory charm…"_ And that was enough for the day; things were worse than she thought. Ginny closed her book in anger and glanced up at the clock; she had already missed her period after lunch, but she doubted anyone would care. She was, after all, in _His_ inner circle, as Marie had so delicately put it.


	4. The Lost Six

A/N: Apologies for the slight delay in getting this up; real life has been a bit hectic. Hope you're enjoying so far!

* * *

"Ginny, are you up?" Ginny tried to stay perfectly still in her four poster; she had spent the better part of the week trying to avoid Marie, and was actually looking forward to staying with Draco for the weekend. It was Thursday night, which meant just one more day of dodging her roommate like a dementor before she was free. Ironically, her freedom involved sleeping a maximum of two feet from her previous enemy and shopping with Pansy Parkinson for a bridesmaid dress for Ginny's wedding. A wedding that was taking place in three weeks, as she had discovered from her correspondence with Pansy.

Classes went by slowly the next day; History of Magic consisted of Goyle trying to catch her eye. It was as though he channeled all the staring a normal person would do throughout the day into the hour and twenty minute period (it was the only class they shared together). After that class, Ginny shuffled off to Charms and attempted to perform Cheering Charms on her opposite, Zacharias Smith, who was just as irritating as he had been in her time. A lot of wizards were attending school later than they should have been; apparently, the "special mission" Goyle had been assigned to wasn't so special, after all. The Cheering Charm only served to enhance Smith's typical smirk, and Ginny was assigned additional practice (which managed to make the smirk deepen, somehow).

* * *

Draco had instructed her to use Professor Grubbly-Plank's fireplace to get to the Manor, which felt awfully strange, but was apparently such a normal occurrence that her Head of House merely shrugged and waved her toward the fireplace when she showed up at the door. "Thanks, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I really appreciate it."

The Care of Magical Creatures professor merely nodded before returning to her paperwork. Dismissed, Ginny grabbed a fistful of green powder, tossed it in the flames, and stated clearly "Malfoy Manor, North Wing" (that was code for Draco's bedroom without saying it in front of her professor). As she jumped in, familiar white walls with silver trim and a very pale man with gray eyes were there to greet her almost instantaneously. Sometimes, she didn't understand why floo travel wasn't used more regularly.

"Draco, er, hi," Ginny stammered as Draco helped her out of the fireplace. "What are you wearing?" Draco was wearing a burgundy and white uniform that she had never seen before, and was a strange contrast to his normal dark colors.

"I got back from my apprenticeship a bit late, so I didn't have time to change. I was actually a bit worried you were going to beat me here," Draco said with a lopsided smile. His words explained essentially nothing since Ginny was unable to recognize his uniform, but she didn't press the matter. "I've been pulling late hours because I've been doing a lot of research on memory conditions and potential causes." _Oh, Merlin._

"Your case seems a bit out of the ordinary, but I'm confident we can crack it." There was that Malfoy smirk she had been missing. "I pulled several questionnaires that we use on patients, and I thought we could go through them together and see if this helps us find out what's wrong." Did he work at St. Mungo's? That was about the most un-Draco career Ginny could think of.

"But what if none of them apply?" Ginny asked nervously, trying to resist biting her nails.

Draco sighed. "As I said, nothing I've read quite fits the symptoms you were experiencing, so I'm not sure anything will fit. It may be a spell that's uncommon, so it wouldn't have a set diagnostic system."

Ginny nodded. "If you've looked at everything, I trust you to figure out if it sounds like what's happening with me. Do we need to go through the questionnaire?" Ginny was getting increasingly nervous; she had fooled Draco last weekend into not divulging all she didn't "remember," but if he were going through question-by-question, it would be much more difficult to steer him off course. Ginny started to keep her eyes wide open, not allowing herself to blink, so that her eyes would water enough to force tears if necessary. Years of growing up with Fred and George had made the technique extremely useful.

"Well," Draco hesitated, and Ginny couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. He was clearly excited to try to diagnose her, which was simultaneously vexing and oddly sweet. "Would it be difficult for you?"

Ginny nodded, biting her lip and letting the accumulated water drip down her face. "I'm sorry, Draco, but it's just been so hard at school, if I don't recognize anyone, I wonder if I'm supposed to. And then in class…"

"It's okay, Gin," Draco said soothingly, though she could hear some disappointment dripping from his drawl. He wrapped her into a tight hug and she tensed up for a moment before returning it. It was difficult to say whether she tensed because this was Draco Malfoy, after all, and it was just an automatic reaction, or if the tension was something else entirely, namely the strange warmth of his body and the familiar parchment and vanilla scent.

"Thanks for understanding, Draco."

"We'll figure this out some other way. I won't stop looking until we find out what's happened."

Ginny just sighed against him. "Thanks," she said simply, not knowing how else to respond.

* * *

"I can't believe that I have to be pregnant during your wedding; I only get to be Maid of Honor once!" Pansy whined; it was about the tenth time she had said something similar all day, but Ginny had a hard time sympathizing as she was one who was going to be married off in three weeks' time to a near-stranger.

"What do you think of this one? Is the baby bump too obvious?" The dress was ridiculous; tight and low at Pansy's rather large breasts, and then shot out almost immediately afterward.

"No, Pansy, but I think it would look chicer if you wore a form-fitting dress. Don't hide the baby bump; if you have one, that's what's fashionable. You are Pansy Parkinson."

Pansy nodded thoughtfully. "I like where you're going. Watch the dressing room." Pansy tore through the store like the woman on a mission that she was and pulled several dresses that fit Ginny's suggestion. She ended up picking a tight, dark green number, a color that Ginny was learning was very popular in this universe.

"What do you think?"

"I'm a little nervous you're going to show me up, but I like it."

"With your dress?" Pansy scoffed. "Anything would be described as subtle next to that." Ginny had heard many similar descriptions of her dress, which was making her increasingly nervous. She wasn't exactly thrilled about having to marry Draco Malfoy to begin with, but she wanted to at least have a dress she was happy with. The final fitting was apparently next weekend, so she had that long to figure out how to ditch the dress.

* * *

After the dress shopping, Pansy took Ginny to an upscale cocktail bar. Everyone that worked there knew both of them by name, and said they would bring by their usual orders straightaway. Ginny was pleasantly surprised to find that her counterpart had the same taste as her, and happily sipped her whiskey-heavy drink.

"Can I ask you something?"

Pansy sipped her cocktail through two small straws before giving her an incredulous look. "Obviously. What is it? You're thinking the table cloths we picked out are too pink, aren't you?"

"No, I think those are great. It wasn't about the wedding. You know I've been having memories sort of coming back to me slowly."

Pansy looked serious now, nodding for her to continue. She appreciated that Pansy could have a serious conversation with her; Ginny couldn't say the same for her roommate.

"Well, I had this weird dream last night about… I think her name was Lacy Lovegood?" Ginny asked tentatively, butchering Luna's first name on purpose. Hermione's whereabouts had essentially been answered (though grimly) through her reading material, she had confirmation on Harry's death, her brothers were fine (or at least alive), and she would look really insane if she asked anyone why her parents weren't in attendance last week. So that left Luna at the top of her list of people she wanted information on.

"Hm, that sounds familiar," Pansy responded, scrunching her eyebrows together in thought. _Not a great sign._ "Ohhhh. The Lovegoods are part of the Lost Six."

"Sorry?"

Pansy shrugged. "Who could blame you for forgetting history lessons with that barmy professor teaching. I'm amazed you took it for NEWTs. The Lost Six are the six pureblood families that disappeared after the muggles left Hogwarts."

"Oh, I think this is ringing a bell. Who were the rest?"

"I can't remember all of them, but they're called the _Lost_ Six because they all start with the letter 'L.'"

"Is one of them Longbottom?" Ginny asked, putting on her best confused face.

"Yes, that's another. Anyway, completely disappeared. That's the story anyway. You know a lot of the boys have taken care of them." Pansy said the last sentence in a whisper and winked.

"Right, of course. It's so strange having all these vague memories coming back in little bursts."

"I can imagine," Pansy said sympathetically. "Has Draco made any progress?"

"Not really," Ginny responded dismally.

"If anyone can figure out what it is, he will."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

When Ginny returned to the "North Wing" (also known as Draco's bedroom), he was nowhere to be found. She didn't much feel like reading, and found herself fairly shamelessly rummaging through Draco's drawers. She was curious, and knew she could easily make up an excuse if he returned. Near the top of his nightstand, she found a plain black book with silver trim. Closing the drawer, she made herself comfortable on the bed to look through it. It was a photo album, apparently from Draco's childhood.

The first picture showed Draco and Ron smiling forcefully for the camera; one of their parents must have staged it. The next few were mostly Draco with his parents, the three of them generally wearing neutral expressions. On the third page, another Weasley showed up, but this time it was her. Draco was looking at her with a faux-exasperated expression as she stole what appeared to be pumpkin juice.

"That's probably the only genuine photograph in there," a familiar voice interrupted. She looked up to find a sadly smiling Draco.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I was looking to try to find a quill and some parchment, and I found the photo album, and thought it might jog my memory."

Draco nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. "So?"

"So…?"

"Do you remember it?"

And for some reason, Ginny couldn't bring herself to lie in that moment. "No."

"Well, the picture says it all. You stole my pumpkin juice and I was rather irate with you."

"You don't seem to really be mad."

"Maybe not. I didn't say I was angry, anyway; just annoyed."

"And now? For me looking through your things?"

"Just annoyed." But they were both smiling.


	5. That Hair

It was Sunday morning and the sun was shining through the window such that Ginny's slouched over attempt at rising was casting a shadow on Draco's empty side of the bed. _Where was he? Oh yeah… something about the Ministry._ The night before had been strange; she felt awkward and guilty for rifling through his things, more so because he didn't seem to mind terribly much, and she couldn't help but think of how differently he would feel if she knew she wasn't exactly… her.

Brushing those thoughts out of the way, Ginny slipped back into her same clothes for the previous day and decided to explore. Draco had said the whole family would be out, so there was no need to hide in the strange comfort of those four white walls.

It took a moment to remember the path to the main staircase, and Ginny shuddered for a moment before descending, remembering the last time she had when she had been face-to-face with Voldemort. It was strange to think that he was back, and lording over the world, when everything seemed to be suspended in a strange semblance of normality. For her, Voldemort had always meant war, but somehow the citizens of this universe had become placated and settled into their half-lives.

Ginny was still feeling melancholy as she pushed past the glass double doors that led to a vast garden. She wandered around for a while, stroking a petal of a rose idly when a voice came up from behind her.

"Ginevra, it's lovely to see you."

Ginny slowly turned around to face Narcissa, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. "Sorry to disturb you, Mrs. Malfoy, I was just, um, I was just—"

"Escaping the room you keep yourself hidden in?" Narcissa asked, a small smile on her face that looked off to Ginny: the effect was far too carefree for her image of the Malfoy matriarch.

"Something like that. The gardens are quite beautiful."

"Yes. Your mother used to love them, too."

"Really?" Ginny asked, not bothering to hide her eagerness. She was desperate for any information about her mother, and slightly surprised that Narcissa spoke of her with such an obvious fondness.

Narcissa nodded sadly. "It was her idea to plant the red roses. I never thought it matched the color scheme, but sometime after her death, I had them planted as a tribute. That's just between us, of course."

Ginny felt her heart sink, but couldn't feel surprise at the news. The complete void surrounding her parents pointed toward their death, but she yearned for more information. "How did you feel when you found out?"

"I was incredibly angry with her." Narcissa paused, studying Ginny as though to gauge her reaction, but Ginny was struggling to keep her face blank. "It wasn't only because of what she had tried to do, but that it was essentially a suicide mission. I'm sorry, I shouldn't say that. I'm sure she thought it was the right thing," Narcissa added quickly, but there was bitterness laced in the tone.

"I'm not offended," Ginny said honestly. If anything, her heart eased up a little; a "suicide mission"? It gave her hope that her entire family hadn't backed Voldemort. "I appreciate you talking about it. People don't like to mention her."

Narcissa nodded sympathetically. "It must be difficult for you, planning a wedding with your parents gone."

 _Parents._

"Yes," Ginny responded quietly. "I think that's why they've been on my mind more often."

"That makes sense."

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes, Ginevra?"

 _No, that name only made it worse._ "Ever since I was little, I wanted to wear her wedding dress."

"Oh, Ginevra, you know you can't."

"How would anyone know?"

"It's not worth the risk, dear. And you were so excited about your wedding dress."

Ginny shook her head, not having to fake the tears that were welling up in her eyes. "I'm not anymore. Sometimes I think I chose it just to spite her: because it's just the opposite of her dress, but it's not what I want." Ginny was taking a slight shot in the dark, but considering the simple dress her mother wore, she felt confident in the veracity of her words.

"Well, let's find you a new one."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. It's the least I can do for my future daughter-in-law. How about next weekend? We can meet at the Apparition point in Paris. That way you can pretend you're coming from Hogwarts."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. "An excellent plan, Mrs. Malfoy."

* * *

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Draco panted as he emerged from the fireplace, brushing ashes off his dress robes: gray today, with deep purple woven in. "Have you been terribly bored?"

"No. I had a nice chat with your mother in the garden."

Draco looked a bit stricken as he plopped down on the bed next to her, only two feet away as he pulled off his dress robes to reveal a plain black shirt and boxers. His shirt was sticking to him slightly, as he had been sweating under his dress robes. He was close enough that she could feel his breath on her as he spoke, sharp peppermint contrasting with vanilla.

"Gin?"

"Sorry, I spaced out for a moment."

"I'm sorry Mother was here; she told me yesterday she would be out with friends, but her plans must have changed. Was it terribly awkward?"

"No, I think it was a good thing, actually," Ginny replied thoughtfully. "She's going to help me find a new wedding dress next weekend."

"What was wrong with the old one?" Draco asked with a slight chuckle, a hint of exasperation in his tone.

"It wasn't me."

"Then why did you pick it out?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not sure."

"Are you feeling differently since you were attacked?" Draco asked, fully engaged in the conversation again. His posture had even straightened, and she felt guilty for inadvertently bringing up her memory problems.

"Maybe a little. It's hard to say."

"I thought of something today. When we were kids, you used to keep a journal. I know it's a long shot, but maybe you still do?"

"It's worth a try. I'll look when I get back to school."

"Good. Let me know if you find anything?"

"You'll be the first to hear," Ginny replied, sighing. She was so tired of talking about her memory loss; it simultaneously made her feel guilty for keeping things from Draco and made her more interested, which was irritating considering it was apparently a one-way feeling.

"I'm sorry to annoy you, Gin. I know you hate it when I fixate on things." And with that, he was up, back turned to her as he closed the door a little too harshly, disappearing into the bathroom adjoining his bedroom. Ginny thought about replying, but didn't know what to say and was relieved of the task as she heard the shower water go on.

By the time he got out, Ginny was lying flat on her back in her pajamas, staring at the ceiling. She was half asleep but was jolted out of her dreamlike state when she heard the door creak open. "Draco?"

"Sorry, Gin. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep; not really." There was no response. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"How are you feeling about the wedding?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you excited? Nervous? Depressed? Happy? Ec—"

"Okay, I get what you mean now," Draco replied, half-laughing through his tired tone. "I don't really feel much about it, I guess. Is that terrible? It's been coming for so long, I think I've felt all the feelings I have about it."

"That makes sense," Ginny muttered.

"What about you? How are you feeling about it?"

"I'm terribly nervous."

"Really? Why, Gin?"

"It just seems like a bad time with everything else going on—school, memory…" _Confusing feelings for you._

"I know a lot is happening, but you don't have to lift a finger. Everything is planned and ready, and things won't be that different when we're married; I promise. All you need to do is find a perfect dress."

"Okay."

"Okay?" Draco confirmed.

Ginny nodded, not remotely comforted by the promise that nothing would change between them when they were married. How could she marry someone who so clearly felt nothing for her romantically? And why did she have to?

* * *

"You ran into Narcissa?!" Marie exclaimed. Ginny had carefully weighed the various options of how to respond to Marie's seemingly simple request of a weekend update, and decided that mentioning her run-in with Narcissa would be the best way to keep her roommate's mouth occupied so she could let her mind wander.

She was doing just that when she felt herself being forcibly pulled back into the conversation. "Gin? Gin?"

"Hmm? I'm so exhausted that I must have spaced out for a minute."

"It's okay. I was just asking what Draco said about it? I bet he was really mad."

"No, he was apologetic. He had told me she would be out."

"Oh." Marie sounded strangely disappointed. "That's terrible of him to blindside you like that."

"It wasn't his fault."

For once, Marie didn't seem to know how to respond. Ginny took advantage of the lull by announcing that she was going to bed, pulling the curtain around her four-poster before Marie could respond.

Ginny couldn't sleep, and so she wandered through the halls, intending to go out for some fresh air, when she heard whispering in one of the corridors. She had chosen the path because it was poorly lit and not often traveled; apparently the spot was popular with others for the same reason. Instinctively, she ducked behind a suit of armor to listen.

"Professor Snape!" an unfamiliar voice loudly whispered.

"We are done discussing this, Gerard." Snape sounded angry; quite angry. Because of her small size compared to the suit of armor, Ginny was hidden perfectly but also unable to see anything.

"But sir, I know what I saw."

"I don't know how you recognize a student _six years later_ , but I will pass your information to the Dark Lord."

"I want to speak to him directly."

"That is not how things work, Gerard. You give me information, and I present it to the Dark Lord."

"But I don't trust you to pass this information on. It was _her_ , Professor Snape, I know it was. I would recognize that hair anywhere."

 _That hair? Could it be Hermione? Could she really still be alive?_

"Regardless of my level of trust in the veracity of your claims, I will discuss them with the Dark Lord."

"But—"

"Do you think he has time for your incessant prattle? Do you know how many people come to me, each piece of information more critical than the next, desperate to gain favor? Much too many for the Dark Lord to speak to; he is an incredibly busy man. Are you suggesting that he is idle?"

"Well, no, Professor, I just—I just know that he—"

" _I will pass it on._ There is no more to be said on the matter. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Gerard responded, resigned. Professor Snape's louder footsteps set off first, with Gerard's reluctantly following down the hall, though veering to the right instead of the left. The conversation was over.

Now more interested in not getting caught out of bed than in fresh air, Ginny slowly made her way back to her dorm, hiding quickly whenever she heard the slightest noise. Though disconcerting, it was lucky for her that Peeves no longer roamed the halls.

"Gin!" Marie exclaimed as Ginny began to crawl into bed. "Where were you?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Where did you go?"

"I was just sitting in the common room, enjoying the fire."

There was a slight pause. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear you're having trouble sleeping."

"Watching the fire helped. I'm going to sleep while my eyes are still heavy. Let's talk in the morning," Ginny continued, not having to fake a yawn.


	6. Suspicion

Ginny had been a bit on edge most of the day. Her breakfast had come with an unwelcome surprise: a note from her new Headmaster requesting her presence in his office after her last class. Considering his station, she doubted it was a true request.

So, when four o'clock rolled around, she made her way up to the office, providing the gargoyle with the password he had supplied in his note: lily. Strangely feminine password, but there it was. The gargoyle opened as she questioningly spoke the word, and she followed the spinning staircase up to the top office.

It was as one would expect Snape's office to be. It felt cold and impersonal. The décor was largely black (or what little there was in way of décor, at least).

"Professor Snape. I believe you wanted to see me."

"Good of you to come, Ms. Weasley."

"Of course, Headmaster. May I inquire as to the reason for this visit?" Ginny asked stiffly. She shifted under Snape's intense stare.

"I heard you have had trouble sleeping. I wanted to check on you and see if there was anything I could do to help."

 _What?_ "That's very kind, sir. It was actually just last night that I was having insomnia."

"Yes, Ms. Hemlocke informed me that you found the fire very therapeutic." _I wonder if he calls her Ms. Hemlocke during sex._

"I do love the warmth of a fire," Ginny replied, not sure where this was headed.

"The trouble is, Ms. Weasley, is that the Slytherin common room is the only one without a fireplace." And now Snape was looking at her as she was accustomed to, thrilled at catching her doing something wrong. _How did she miss that?_

"Professor," Ginny responded haughtily, "I am a witch. I think I can conjure a controlled fire when I so desire."

"Would you care to show me?"

Ginny's mind raced as she tried to determine how best to go about this. She also desperately hoped she hadn't used the specificity of a fireplace with Marie or Snape, because she didn't think she could do that without some practice.

Ginny shrugged, trying to appear casual while doing so. "I would think such trivial magic would bore you, Headmaster, but I would be happy to." Ginny silently conjured a giant candle, about her height in width and length. It had multiple wicks and she lit all of them at once. It was the easiest thing she could think of doing that could still accurately be described as a "fire."

"I had no idea you were so gifted with nonverbal spells, or with Transfiguration. Your professor is serving you well." _Damn._ Ginny had grown so used to nonverbal magic that it took a conscious effort for her to speak the incantations. Unfortunately, she had been too distracted to employ that effort.

"She's a remarkable teacher, Headmaster."

"Noted." Snape was making serious eye contact with her, to the point where she was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable. And then she felt it. Someone less trained might have brushed the feeling away as an after effect of Snape's intense gaze, but she was too familiar with the push of Legilimency.

Ginny knew it would be smartest to let him in—if she could control her thoughts. It was a big _if._ If he really wanted to get past her walls, he would have no problem doing it. She had no such illusions about her own gifts. But he wouldn't be able to do it without making a scene, and she didn't think he was prepared to do so. And she didn't think she was practiced enough to shield her current thoughts. Thinking about Legilimency would be just as much of a giveaway as pushing him out.

So she stopped teetering on the edge or slowing his assault on her mind. She pushed him out as gently as possible, but it was decisive. And clearly intentional. A flash of surprise came across Snape's face. Ginny just smiled sweetly, trying to keep her face as innocent as possible, but it wouldn't do. He knew.

"I believe this meeting is over, Ms. Weasley. I trust you will inform me if I can assist with your insomnia in any way." They both rose from their respective seats. He was openly glaring at her even as he kept his voice even.

"I appreciate your concern, Professor," Ginny replied simply, shaking his hand. His handshake threatened to crush her, and she mirrored him. It lasted longer than it should have.

Snape sat back down. "I trust you can find your way out." She nodded and did just that.

 _What just happened? And what did Snape think she was hiding?_

* * *

Ginny returned to her room in a haze. She had a Prefect meeting that she was supposed to attend, but she skipped it, seeking the warmth of her bed. Instead, as she opened the door, she found Marie rummaging through her things.

Ginny acted on instinct, drawing her wand and disarming her silently. "What the hell, Marie?"

Marie's eyes were wide with shock. "Gin—I—I didn't mean to offend you. But you said I could borrow your moon-shaped necklace any time I wanted and I couldn't find it."

Ginny's left hand instinctively went to find the necklace that she was wearing over her Slytherin tie. It was smart of Marie to pick a necklace she was wearing. A little too smart. And why had Marie told Snape about her sleeping problems? Was it more than pillow talk?

But not wanting to cause another scene, Ginny lowered her wand and put on her best apologetic face, overdramatized slightly to hopefully match her counterpart.

"Marieeeeeeeeee," Ginny half-shrieked. "I'm so sorry. I've just been on edge all day." She sighed loudly. "I seriously need my beauty sleep. Forgive me?" Ginny asked with a pout.

"Of course!" Marie exclaimed before running over and catching her in a tight hug.

To be on the safe side, Ginny listened to Marie talk more than she normally tolerated that night.

Ginny mostly tuned her out, but her ears perked up when she heard her fiancée's name. She had started listening midsentence, so it was difficult to pick up the thread. "…it's just you seem much more cheerful about the wedding lately. Did some of the shock of losing some of your memories change your priorities, or something?"

"Well, it's just there's nothing to be glum about. We're to be wed, so I'm making the best of it."

"Do you forgive him, then?" Marie looked genuinely interested in Ginny's response, which was rare.

"Forgive him for what?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten everything." The words came out slowly.

"Of course not. Just details. I just hate to dwell on the past." Ginny hated that she didn't know what Marie was talking about, but she couldn't ask. The mere suggestion that she might not remember what Marie referred to was bringing out a whole new side to her roommate.

"Of course," Marie responded, a little too quickly.

What could Draco have done? Whatever he had done apparently had to do with "everything" as Marie had so delicately put it. Perhaps her counterpart wasn't just being petulant about her upcoming nuptials.

* * *

The next day, Ginny returned to the Lockhart series in the library. She had determined to research Snape (mainly by looking through various indexes for his name), but now she found herself more interested if she could find information on Draco. There was very little. She went through all the volumes meticulously but there were few mentions of her intended. Any notes about him mostly identified him as Lucius's son or a member of the Malfoy family generally.

She had more luck with Snape. There were an overwhelming amount of mentions in him in more recent volumes as he was Headmaster, but he was notably absent in books about the early days of Voldemort's rise. Perhaps there was friction between him and Voldemort during that time.

The information was much more difficult to sift through. His name was tied up in mentions of the "vast improvements at Hogwarts" but nothing illuminating was said about the man himself. What did she expect, really, from a book written for flattery purposes? The work Snape was doing was clearly not out in the open if he resorted to meetings in the dead of the night in secluded hallways. But she was determined to find out what was going on somehow.

* * *

A few days later, Ginny tumbled out of the fireplace and into the Manor at the normal Friday night time. Draco was waiting for her, sitting on his bed in his pajamas.

"Gin!" He greeted her with a grin.

"Hi, Draco," Ginny responded half-heartedly. Ever since her conversation with Marie, she couldn't shake her roommate's question. Did she forgive him? What had he done? And the thought kept tugging at her: maybe Draco seemed too good to be true because he was. He was, after all, still Draco Malfoy.

"Everything alright?" He inquired, concerned. Ginny wanted to groan. He was so in tune with her emotions sometimes, but seemed happy to ignore the lust bubbling under the surface.

"It's just been a long day." _A long week._

"What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I just want to sleep." Ginny was curt, and she felt her heart tug slightly as Draco's face fell. Just as quickly, he masked over his disappointment, nodding in agreement.

A substantial part of Ginny wanted to jump onto the bed and bury herself in Draco, demanding that he tell her everything, and sharing her story in return. The part might have won if Ginny had been "Gin"—if she hadn't gone through hell and back, only to return full of suspicion. The instinctual trust she felt toward the man sitting on his bed—their bed?—was overshadowed by manufactured paranoia, now coupled with the seed of doubt Marie had planted. No, she wouldn't let herself open up to him.

So, she quietly collected her pajamas from the drawer and slipped into the bathroom to change. Draco had forgotten to put away his cologne bottle and it was sitting near the back corner of the ornate gold sink. Ginny picked it up and inhaled the scent. It didn't smell quite like him; the vanilla and musk were there, but in different proportions, and the ink was absent entirely. Slightly disappointed, she put the bottle back where she found it and splashed water on her face before changing.

When she returned to the bedroom, Draco was spread eagle with his eyes closed. He didn't speak or move, but Ginny could tell he was just pretending to sleep. His breathing wasn't deep enough, and his body was too stiff. Still, she was glad of the pretense. She quietly slipped into bed next to him, sleeping on her side as always, but this time facing Draco, eyes boring into him searching for answers that she wasn't likely to receive tonight.


	7. The Right Dress

A/N: My sincere apologies for the long delay- it's been a combination of writer's block on this story and less time to write than I would like. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Ginny easily acquired the papers to floo internationally, brushing the ashes off her clothes before going to meet Narcissa. She never could understand how some witches and wizards tumbled out after flooing looking perfectly manicured. Perhaps it was a skill one had to learn as a child, and her family had never cared much for appearances.

It was her first time in the city, so she took her time walking to the Apparition point. Narcissa was just off to the side, perfectly manicured fingers clinging to her shiny green clutch.

"Mrs. Malfoy!" She shouted.

Narcissa looked a bit put off— _probably because you shouted at her!_ —but nevertheless waved affectionately. "Ginevra," she greeted her as she approached. She didn't reach out to hug her, though, instead smiling in a strained fashion. She seemed less open and warm than she had been the week prior, probably because of the public nature of this outing.

"Thank you again for going dress shopping with me," Ginny replied, trying to smooth over her awkward greeting.

"It is my pleasure," Narcissa responded formally.

She warmed up as the day wore on, and Ginny tried on dress after dress. She tried on everything from ballgowns to fitted dresses, but all felt as though they weren't quite right.

At one point, she tried on what was apparently her current wedding dress.

"For comparison?" Narcissa questioned with a raised eyebrow. Ginny stood there open-mouthed for a moment while she tried to catch Narcissa's meaning, but finally understood and nodded.

"Exactly." The dress was less garish than she expected, but she felt weighed down by the excessive beading, and was glad she wasn't wearing it down the aisle.

Finally, toward the end of the day, Ginny tried on a steel gray—"white was so muggle," Narcissa insisted—ballgown with a huge tulle skirt. As she stared at herself in the small mirror of her dressing room, she felt a tug of sadness as she realized that this was the dress. It wasn't just her favorite dress she had tried on, though; she could actually picture herself marrying Draco in it, and that was a feeling she wished she could remove as easily as a dress.

"Ginevra?" The sales assistant who helped her put on the dress questioned, snapping her out of her reverie. "What do you think of the dress?"

"It's perfect," she said with a tear falling down her cheek. "Sorry," she mumbled, wiping it away.

The sales assistant smiled and patted her reassuringly. "Brides often get emotional when they find the right dress."

"Yes. The right dress," Ginny repeated in a quiet voice.

Narcissa agreed heartily with her choice when she finally collected herself to leave the fitting room.

When she went back to the Manor, Draco was gone; he had to work all weekend, which was probably for the best. She was asleep before he returned.

* * *

She woke up to a blurry form of Draco buttoning the last buttons of what she gathered was his hospital uniform. She rubbed her eyes and sleepily asked him if he were leaving.

"I didn't mean to wake you, Gin," he whispered in lieu of response. "I'm on my way out."

Ginny nodded sleepily, clutching the pillow beneath her as she readjusted herself.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed opposite her. "How did dress shopping go?"

Ginny just groaned in response.

"You didn't find anything?"

"No. I found the dress." _It's just that it made me more confused than ever about my feelings for you and made the wedding seem concrete to me, but yes, the dress was perfect._

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" Draco asked. _Merlin, he's trying. He's really trying. Perhaps I should just ask him about everything—"say, Draco, what did you do that broke other me's heart?"_

She looked into his eyes—a warm shade of gray, which she didn't even realize was possible—and wanted to spill her heart out. Instead, the girl who had spent the last several years on the opposite side of the war from the man who was now opposite her on the bed won out. "Yes. Just tired, sorry."

"No need to apologize," Draco responded, but the hurt edge of his voice betrayed him. "I'll be off. See you tonight."

"I'll be out," Ginny mumbled.

"Okay," Draco replied, not bothering to hide the sigh that followed.

* * *

That evening, she met Pansy at the same cocktail bar. She had tried to cram as many plans in as she could because she was trying to avoid her future husband, hating the nagging feeling that she was missing something. Part of her wanted him to be awful; then she could rid herself of the warm feeling she had when he walked in a room, or smiled at her. That would certainly be preferable.

But the mystery was tugging at her too much; and Pansy was supposed to be her best friend, after all.

"Pansy, could I ask you something?"

Pansy smiled. "Are we playing the memory game again?"

"Are you mocking me?"

She shrugged unapologetically. "I'm trying to make light of an unfortunate situation, Gin. Can you blame me?" She took a sip of her drink and draped her arm over the long wooden bench extending out to her left. "So?"

"Well…" Ginny hesitated. Pansy was good friends with Draco, after all. What if she mentioned it to him? But then again, would it be the worst thing? And she might lie, but she might not, after all. _The same could be said for Draco_ , a nagging voice reminded her in the back of her head. It was the same voice that had an absurd crush on the man, and wanted to believe the best. It wasn't the voice that won. "Marie mentioned something about me being unable to forgive Draco for something, but I can't remember what it is."

Pansy studied her for a second, but she wasn't shocked as Marie was at the mere mention. "This again, Gin?"

"Again? I told you I can't remember it."

"Any of it?" Pansy looked disbelieving.

"No. Can you fill me in?"

"No."

"Excuse me?" Ginny asked, a bit surprised at Pansy's flat-out refusal. She was expecting at least a lie.

"I won't tell you. I think it's best you've forgotten. For the sake of your wedding jitters, I will tell you that Draco did nothing wrong. He simply did what the Dark Lord asked of him. Maybe if you had been able to forget about this years ago, you would be marrying someone more powerful." _What the Dark Lord asked him? That certainly doesn't sound like "nothing wrong."_

"I really have no idea what you're talking about," Ginny admitted.

"Good. Let's cheers to that." Pansy held up her drink and Ginny hesitated, not wanting to cheers to ignorance, but finally acquiesced with an unenthusiastic _clink_.

* * *

She got home from her excursion with Pansy likely reeking of alcohol. She had lost count of the number of cocktails she was having after four. As she flooed into the familiar bedroom that seemed almost to be hers—much like its inhabitant—she was greeted with the man himself.

"Draco," she greeted him. She felt a rush of attraction mingled with the frustration of the building mysteries surrounding him.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her knees bunched up to the right of her against his hip bone; Draco was horizontal, still in a button-up shirt, collar slightly askew and two buttons undone. He didn't say anything, instead smiling wearily at her.

"Thirteen days until we're married," Ginny said.

"Yes, that's true."

"Muggles say that thirteen is an unlucky number." Something she had learned from Hermione.

Draco chuckled. "How would you know what muggles say?"

Ginny shrugged. "I must have read or heard it somewhere."

Draco just shook his head, closing his eyes. He must have really been tired.

"Did I wake you up?" A nod. His eyes were still closed. "You're on my side of the bed." No response but a smirk.

Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, Ginny slid down next to him, lifting his right arm up so she could duck under it and lay on his chest. She waited a beat as his arm stiffened, but it quickly relaxed as he pulled her toward him, closer than she expected.

Slowly, Ginny moved her hand to the open flap of his shirt, spreading it open wider and letting her hand settle there. His eyes opened at that point, searching hers. "What do you think?" He asked, his tone more serious than she was accustomed to.

"About what?"

"Is thirteen unlucky?"

"Not for us," she found herself saying before she could overthink it.

Draco nodded before closing his eyes again. She thought about making another move, but his deep breathing indicated that it would be fruitless.

She carefully untangled herself from the man next to her before flooing back to Hogwarts, saying the name of the castle as quietly as possible to not wake Draco.


	8. Permission

A/N: I know it's been ages since I updated. I just want to reassure everyone that I have a plan for this story, and will not be abandoning it, although my updates might be a bit slow.

* * *

Two days later, Ginny was standing in her bedroom, pulling out her wedding dress to examine it before the wedding—as though seeing the garment would somehow bring her to terms with the fact that she was marrying a stranger in less than two weeks.

It didn't.

What it did make her realize was that the dress was the exact same color as her intended's eyes. Subconsciously, she had gravitated toward it, just as she had gravitated toward the man himself.

Although their families had always been enemies in her time, there was something about this Draco that made her trust him inherently. But she shouldn't. Not according to Marie.

And Marie had brought it up twice more just in the last thirty-odd hours since she had been back from Draco's. It was as though Marie were _trying_ to get Ginny to call off the wedding.

And really, why shouldn't she? Her parents were dead; no one could force her to marry him. Her stomach did a flip-flop at that thought, thinking of the inhuman man stylizing himself as some sort of monarch on a throne. But why would Voldemort care if she married Draco? Was it really a given?

She couldn't ask Pansy. They were good friends, apparently, but the weekend had made it clear where the witch's loyalties stood. Just as in her time, they were firmly with the blond wizard who had been haunting her thoughts.

And Marie—it seemed she would answer. She didn't want Ginny and Draco together any more than Ginny did. Ginny stumbled as she had this thought process—part of her balked at the idea of calling off the proposal, not out of obligation, but almost because she wanted to get married to him? Was she completely insane?

Ginny shook it off, attributing the alien feeling to the sense of comfort and routine the other her had established with the man. But it wasn't hers. She couldn't just step in and take over. That much was obvious.

* * *

The next week went by quickly. Ginny gave in to letting her roommate walk with her everywhere, largely because Goyle's stares had not diminished; in fact, they had intensified tenfold. He even went so far as to start passing her notes during class demanding a private audience. She ignored the first four. On the fifth, she simply responded that she was focused on her fiancée.

His looks were getting increasingly pathetic throughout the week, and she was glad for Friday to come. Ginny told herself that was the only reason she was glad for Friday to come.

* * *

Draco was draped on his bed—their bed—when she came in, whiskey in one hand and healing textbook in the other.

He glanced between her and the book for a few moments, obviously torn between greeting her and finishing what he was reading. After he presumably came to a good stopping point, he looked up fully with a slightly sheepish expression. "Hi Gin. I didn't expect you so soon."

His comment made her blush furiously as she realized that she had perhaps eaten her dinner a bit quickly before rushing over.

"It's just that I wanted to come talk with you. The wedding is coming up and I'm nervous I suppose."

The light expression was replaced by a wary one as Draco nodded. "I know it's hard."

"What?" Ginny questioned as she sat on the edge of the bed.

He scooted closer to her before tucking her hair behind her ear. She normally hated it there, but the gesture was strangely sweet. "Getting married. I know you don't—" His voice broke.

"I know neither of us feel the way we should," Ginny admitted, hoping he would explain how they had gotten into this mess in the first place.

He nodded, but was clearly hurt by her words. "Yes. But we'll figure it out. I promised you we would, and I meant it."

"I hope you're not marrying me just because of a promise."

Draco looked at her as though she had grown a second head before reaching out to stroke the underside of her jaw.

"I just wish that my mom could be there, you know?" Her voice broke slightly, and she chastised herself for being so vulnerable. But she closed up even more when she saw the flash of guilt cross Draco's face as he shifted uncomfortably on the way to grabbing her hands in his.

 _Did he have something to do with their death?_

"I'm really sorry, Gin." _Generic apology or it's-my-fault apology?_

"I know," she said in a very quiet voice, not sure of what else to say.

"I didn't—I didn't know that it was them."

Ginny couldn't hold back her gasp, trying to reclaim the air that had been knocked out of her by Draco's unknowing admission.

Her reaction didn't seem to affect Draco, though, who had his head in his hands, tugging slightly at his now-unruly hair.

Ginny felt herself panicking, spiraling—she focused on trying to regulate her breathing. _In, out, in, out, in out._

"I know you don't like to talk about it. I'm sorry. It's just—you brought it up—Merlin, nevermind. I'm sorry, Gin." He lifted his head slightly to speak but didn't face her.

She tried to keep her crying silent, unable to ask the questions burning in the forefront of her mind. _Did he kill them? Did he give them to Voldemort? How could we have caused their death by following orders if he truly didn't know it was them?_

Ginny didn't sleep well that night. She had too much to drink, which Draco didn't dare mention, and then passed out, hoping that she would not dream.

* * *

She woke up Monday morning hungover and alone, quickly closing the curtains to keep some of the daylight out. "Dobby?" She called gingerly. "Could I get some breakfast?"

"Dobby will get Miss breakfast," Dobby responded begrudgingly before disappearing.

Ginny ate slowly, pondering what to do for the remainder of the day. Perhaps it would be best to just head back to the castle, but she didn't want to upset Draco. Not when they were already on such thin ice and especially not when she wanted to ask him more questions. Last night, she had been frozen when she heard the information, but now, in the light of day, she felt confident she could effectively interrogate her future husband. Ultimately, she decided to read a book about Dark Magic on Draco's shelf while she waited (there was little else in the way of options, other than books about healing that were over her head).

Draco tumbled out of the fireplace minutes later, and when she glanced up at him she felt like she recognized her old classmate for the first time. He was wearing black wizarding robes instead of the uniform she often saw him in, and his eyes were wild. His smirk that he always wore was not playful today—it was dangerous, more of a sneer, really.

"Ginevra." And he never called her that. _"Dark Magic and Its Uses._ How fitting." Ginny raised her eyebrows at Draco seemingly criticizing her reading choice which she found on _his_ shelf.

"Draco, what are you so upset about?"

He threw a piece of parchment at her that had been stained with tears. Ginny slowly unfolded it—it said "she's mine" in unfamiliar handwriting.

"What is this, Draco?"

"Don't tell me you don't recognize the handwriting. I suppose writing never was Goyle's strong suit."

"Draco, I—"

"Don't. We weren't together, not really. You're free to do as you wish, but I can't protect you anymore. Goyle is determined to tell anyone—and I mean _anyone_." Ginny involuntarily swallowed as it was clear who "anyone" was—Voldemort.

"And what is it?"

"Don't play dumb, Ginevra. It won't work on me anymore. It's a memory."

"Draco—"

 _"_ _Get out."_

"Draco, where were you this morning?"

"I won't repeat myself. I'll have Dobby drop off your things."

Ginny bit her lip, pushing back tears that were threatening to form. From the look of the parchment and Draco's slightly red eyes, he had already cried. "I'm not interested in Goyle."

"Gin, I won't listen to this."

"It's Ginny!" She shouted without thinking, just frustrated.

"Okay, so now you go by something else." Draco pushed his hair back. "I don't care."

"Draco—"

He turned around to face her, grabbing her strongly by the shoulders. "I felt so guilty last night. And I'm done. You told me to take the mission. You told me not to ask questions. I am tired of taking the blame when you pushed me to—to—" He didn't seem able to continue, just as Ginny couldn't hold back the tears. _It was her fault?_

He looked so haunted that she wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she pushed the feeling down with the memory that regardless of what she had done, Draco had done something too. He was part of the reason she was an orphan.

"Draco, I—"

"Stop, Gin. Just stop," His anger had dissipated slightly, replaced by his own guilt that he was clearly not as done with as he would like to be. "Goyle had his review last week." Draco's expression told her this carried some great weight.

Ginny returned his knowing look with a blank one.

"He's been given permission to marry."

And suddenly everything—or at least a lot of things—clicked in Ginny's head. This was why she hadn't been marrying Goyle in the first place. And this must be related to the promise Draco made—presumably not everyone _could_ marry if permission were required. And this was why Goyle had been demanding to speak with her, why he had sent the note, and why he might tell Voldemort about their trysts. He wanted to marry her.

"Why send you the memory, then?" Ginny guessed that only a disturbing memory could inspire the level of anger she saw in her counterpart—her previous fiancée.

"I don't know." But Draco wouldn't meet her eye. "Please leave."

Unsure of what else to do, she wiped away her tears and flooed back to Hogwarts. Oddly, the Manor had begun to feel more like home than the castle.


End file.
